


the lost visitors

by asterions



Category: IDOLiSH7 (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Chance Meetings, Drinking & Talking, Eventual Happy Ending, Falling In Love, Festivals, First Kiss, Japanese Mythology & Folklore, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-08
Updated: 2018-10-08
Packaged: 2019-07-14 18:00:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,461
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16045673
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/asterions/pseuds/asterions
Summary: “First an old man and now a drunkard. My opinion of you isn’t improving,” Mitsuki tells him, putting down his glass and crossing his arms. “For someone who says he’s a beauty, you sure don’t act like it.”“Drink enough alcohol and everyone turns beautiful under the moonlight.”Mitsuki snorts, despite himself. “There’s no moon out there that can save you right now.”Mitsuki Izumi, Yamato Nikaidou, and their yearly meetings at Tanabata.





	the lost visitors

**Author's Note:**

  * For [96617](https://archiveofourown.org/users/96617/gifts).



> (throws this) i told chrome if they did their homework i would write them fic. now like three weeks later im finally fulfilling that promise. it grew soooooooo much more than i was ever expecting but i hope they like it and i hope you like it too! yamamitsu is the best. ALSO THANK U TO AO3 USER SeasOfRhye FOR BETAING THIS ON SUCH SHORT NOTICE YOU ARE MY HEART AND SOUL

“Iori! Iori!”

 

Mitsuki, hedged on all sides in the Tanabata crowd, shuffles around as he looks for his younger brother. But practically everyone here is taller than him and has black hair. How is he supposed to find him…!?

 

“Oh, whoops. You look like you’re in a bind.”

 

Mitsuki shivers at the voice so close to his ear. When it’s gone, he feels more chilled than before—and with a start, he realizes that the crowd is gone, and he’s kneeling on the grass in front of the shrine.

 

The person who led him out does not let go of his hand even when he stands up, but Mitsuki really wants to see his face—not this moss-like hair and wooden neck.

 

Mitsuki notices that this person’s also dressed in greens and browns, with the only hint of another color being the slip of white undergarment under his yukata. When he turns,  Mitsuki can’t help but take a sharp breath. With the moonlight outlining his sharp features, it almost seems that this man is one with the land somehow. 

 

The man’s chuckle completely destroys his mystical image. “Is this nii-san so handsome so as for you to look at him with those loving eyes? You’re going to make your girlfriend cry, you know?”

 

“Sh-Shut up,” Mitsuki retorts. “And I don’t have a girlfriend.”

 

“Oh, really? That’s surprising. Even for a man of your cute height—”

 

Mitsuki stomps forward, his hand reaching for the collar of the other man’s low-cut yukata. “That’s really uncalled for, you—huh?!”

 

Above them, fireworks bloom, popping loudly in the sky. 

 

Mitsuki sighs deeply and lets go. “Damn it, not again…”

 

The man quirks an eyebrow, putting a hand in the sleeve of his bottle-green haori. “Not again?”

 

“I promised my little brother we’d watch the fireworks together,” Mitsuki explains. “I took him out today because I was an asshole before and wanted to make it up to him by treating him to street food and winning him his favorite plushies…” He tears up. “…But now, I’ve probably made him worry so much that he can’t enjoy the festival. Fuck! I’m the worst brother!”

 

“I don’t really think that’s something to worry about, in all honesty…”

 

Mitsuki charges forward again, face to face with the other man. “Of course it is! If I can’t make it up to him, then…” He buries his face in the sleeve of his yukata, feeling his tears return with full force. The other man pushes his glasses back on his nosebridge, and takes out a green handkerchief and dabs Mitsuki’s face until his sobs soften enough for the twilight crickets to be heard once more.

 

“Are you better?”

 

“…Yeah. Thanks.”

 

The other man’s avoiding Mitsuki’s eyes. “Don’t mention it. Hey, by the way, what does your brother look like?”

 

Mitsuki shrugs. “Like every other person at this festival. Dark hair and tall, I guess.”

 

The man points. “Is he the one with the cat patterned navy-blue yukata?”

 

“Yeah, he is! Where did you see him—huh?” 

 

A gentle shove pushes Mitsuki forward. “See you,” is all he hears before he crashes into Iori and nearly brings them both down the stairs.

 

Iori splutters as he holds a hand to help him up. “N-Nii-san?! Where were you? How did you go from all the way from the stalls to the park entrance? Oh, that doesn’t matter. Thank goodness you’re safe—hey, what’s that in your hand?”

 

Mitsuki looks down. He’s still holding the handkerchief. “Oh, I just… borrowed this from someone. Iori, did you see someone around here? A tall guy with green hair and glasses?”

 

Iori furrows his brow. “No, I haven’t. Why, do you want to look for him? Where exactly did you see him last?”

 

“Around the shrine’s gates—wait.” Mitsuki looks up.The gates of the shrine are so far away they’re almost eye level with the rapidly setting sun.

 

“Then they’ve definitely left by now…nii-san, we should really get home before it gets dark.”

 

Mitsuki’s grin can’t help but creep up his face. “Why? Still scared of youkai? I remember how cute you were, Iori, when you came to my room and—”

 

“You’re being noisy!”

 

★

 

The handkerchief finds a place in Mitsuki’s bag.

 

Every time he looks at it, he thinks of the man that dismissed his worries so callously, yet didn’t hesitate to comfort him with a cloth to his face. It’s strange, how dishonest and honest it is at the same time. How cute.

 

This year, the handkerchief was well-used for wiping both his tears and those of his friends. One day, when Mitsuki goes home, he notices how threadbare the edges have gotten, its braided gold embroidery unraveling. How very much unlike his understanding of that mysterious man.

 

So he sits outside one day—under the paper streamers that closely mark the return of Tanabata—and weaves it back together.

 

Mitsuki feels a ghost of warmth, a firm hand on his shoulder. He chooses to pretend it’s that man from last year encouraging him, even though there’s no way that could be real. 

 

★

 

For a job well done, Mitsuki Izumi declares to himself that he shall have beer this Tanabata. Perfect to chill the humidity of late summer and warm the breeze of early fall, he thinks, until—

 

“—Mmm. This is some good beer.”

 

Mitsuki makes a face, yanking his glass back. “Get your own, old man!”

 

“But Mitsu,” the man pouts, “I’m a poor old man. A poor, beautiful old man.”

 

“You’re talking like you’re the next Komachi or something.”

 

Mitsuki doesn’t need to hear his laugh to know he’s going to be teased back. “I’m definitely hot enough to be Ono no Komachi, though? But just saying it makes this onii-san so embarrassed, so how are you going to make it up to me?”

 

“ _ You  _ were the one that chose to say that!”

 

Mitsuki marches to the stall and gets another glass, sticky foam spilling from his hands as he jabs it against the other man’s chest. He’s still wearing the same yukata as last year, Mitsuki notices. 

 

“Don’t you have any other clothes?” Mitsuki barks out, averting his eyes when the cloth on his shoulder droops.

 

The drunkard, damn him, happily downs some of the beer. “I’m a poor old man, like you said. Ah, thanks for the beer, by the way. It’s delicious.”

 

“That was just to get you to stop drinking my own,” Mitsuki huffs. “By the way, I have your handkerchief.”

 

“What, that old thing? I already forgot about it. And this drink is payment enough.”

 

“First an old man and now a drunkard. My opinion of you isn’t improving,” Mitsuki tells him, putting down his glass and crossing his arms. “For someone who says he’s a beauty, you sure don’t act like it.”

 

“Drink enough alcohol and everyone turns beautiful under the moonlight.”

 

Mitsuki snorts despite himself. “There’s no moon out there that can save you right now.”

 

“There’s still hope,” the other man says with unabashed confidence. “If light couldn’t travel past clouds, we’d probably be dead right now,” the man said, putting down his now empty drink. “Hey, one more.”

 

Mitsuki shoves another glass at him. “Spend your own money!”

 

It ends with Mitsuki’s face pressed against the man’s shoulder, inhaling his woody scent and feeling strangely comfortable even as the other man begins to lecture him. Their fingers are intertwined the whole time. When the noise from the festival thins out, Mitsuki shakes his shoulder. He doesn’t stir.

 

“Huh,” Mitsuki murmurs, aware that he’d tuned out most of what the man was saying. “Guess he drunk a little too much.” 

 

When Mitsuki begins to drift off after him, strong arms lift him and hoist him over an unseen back, and he hears the rhythmic thud, thud, thud of his geta until he falls asleep again. 

He wakes up at home with a killer hangover and the sun well in sight.

 

★

 

“You know,” Mitsuki starts the next time they meet each other on Tanabata, “I’m getting _really_ sick of calling you ‘old man.’ Who meets someone every year and doesn’t give their damn name?”

 

He chuckles. “Easy there, Mitsu. You could have just asked.”

 

“And why do you know mine, huh?!”

 

“Yamato.”

 

Mitsuki blinks. “Huh?”

 

“That’s my name. Didn’t you want it?”

 

“Well, that’s true. Yamato, huh,” he says. “Your parents must be real patriots.”

 

Yamato chuckles, hand fanning his face. “Oh, you don’t know the half of it.”

 

“Well then, great battleship Yamato-san, give me your back.”

 

“Why?” But he seems to get at what Mitsuki wants, even stretching out his arms behind him. Mitsu leaps into him and nearly bowls him over.

 

Yamato presses his cheek to Mitsuki’s in his laughter. “Easy, easy, I gotcha. God, though, you’re really much stronger than you look.”

 

“Another comment about my height and my foot will meet your balls.”

 

“I’d rather they not. So, where do you want to go?”

 

“Let’s get some drinks and sit on the shrine’s porch again, I guess?”

 

The stall owner hands them their glasses, and they fall in step, leaning against each other as the point out twinkling constellations. A breeze stirs, ruffling the bamboo leaves.

 

“By the way, what did you wish for this year?” Yamato asks. 

 

Mitsuki stares up at him foggily. “Uh? Same thing I wish for every year. To become an idol.” There’s reverence in his voice. Yamato doesn’t look away from him as he continues. “I want to bring happiness to people.”

 

“There are many other ways you could bring happiness to people,” Yamato responds, his beer already halfway gone. “Besides, isn’t being an idol kind of ephemeral? First you’re there and then you’re not. You can’t bring happiness to everyone if they’ve already forgotten you’ve existed,” he says, as if he was speaking from experience.

 

“But that’s not true. It’s been over ten years since Zero disappeared, and everyone still remembers him. I still do, at least.”

 

“Ah, so that’s why you want to be an idol. He gave you the happiness to chase that dream, huh.” Yamato smiles wistfully, whispering not-too-quietly. “Ahh, that’s youth for you.”

 

Mitsuki completely ignores the last comment. “Of course! There’s no one in Japan that hasn’t felt his music!”

 

Yamato touches his chest, for some strange reason. Every year, the yukata that he wears every year just gets looser and looser. Mitsuki wishes he’d cover himself already. Doesn’t he feel cold? Maybe that’s why he asks him to buy alcohol every year. “Yeah… I guess that’s right. Well, I wish you luck. Do you wish to set those wishes off into the river?”

 

“Not yet! I need to finish some more!” Mitsuki says, pulling out more colored strips of paper. The cap of the marker pops, releasing a sharp alcoholic scent into the air that lingers even after the glasses run dry.

 

He throws Yamato another pen. “Well then, get to work! I want to fill all of these by tonight!”

 

Yamato looks bewildered. “Get to work?”

 

“You can’t just think that luck is gonna solve everything. Hard work is what really gets you ahead, so write with 120% of your normal speed!”

 

“Aren’t you banking on that luck anyway, by writing these?” Yamato asks. Then he sighs fondly. “Huh, can’t be helped, I guess. Alright, let’s get to it.”

 

Later, as the colorful streams float upon the river, Mitsuki speaks. “You know, there’s one other wish I wanted granted. I can’t do it on my own, though,” he says, ears pink and rubbing his neck sheepishly. “Will you help me?”

 

“If it’s not too much effort. What is it?”

 

A sharp tug on his clothes brings Yamato to Mitsuki’s eye level, and he understands immediately, wordlessly. Mitsuki gives him three seconds before finally leaning forward into his warm, wet lips.

 

Yamato reciprocates well into the night.

 

★

 

The next year, it’s raining, and Mitsuki doesn’t see Yamato at all. 

 

On this year’s tanzaku, he adds a footnote to his wish.

 

_ Please let me see Yamato-san again. _

 

He waits by the banks with his umbrella to no avail, fingers digging in the dirt, and dries his tears with the handkerchief when he goes home.

 

★

 

The next year, he prays at the shrine with his fellow idols and plays with them until they fall asleep, having already drunk themselves silly. Iori, the only completely sober one in the group, eyes them warily as he hoists an arm over his shoulders. “Nanase-san, can you walk?”

 

Predictably, the only noise he hears is a snore, and Iori sighs as he adjusts himself to carry Nanase’s whole body weight. In the meanwhile, Tamaki’s already picked up Sougo, with Mitsuki supporting him from the opposite site. He casually bumps his shoulder into Iori’s.

 

“What?”

 

Mitsuki grins toothily. “It’s been a while since we’ve spent Tanabata together, hasn’t it—”

 

“Well, of course. The last time you did, you tried to take me here and ended up getting lost instead. I had to search the whole park for you before you basically crashed into me.”

 

“What’s with that uncool explanation?!”

 

Coolly, Iori replies, “It’s just the truth, nii-san.” He loads Riku onto one of the seats in their van, taking care so the other boy’s head doesn’t slump over. “IDOLiSH6 shouldn’t be out so late like this…”

 

“Celebrations are important,” Mitsuki says, wagging a stern finger at Iori. “They are the fire of our youth, and what keeps us going!”

 

Iori smiles, but his tone is still belligerent. Not for the first time, Mitsuki misses when he was cuter. “Whatever you say, nii-san.”

 

But looking past Iori’s shoulder, into the thinning crowd and the dimming lights, Mitsuki sees someone he knows very well.

 

Yamato meets his eye, and his glasses glint with the firelight of the sparkler in his hands. 

 

“I-Iori,” he says desperately, “I think I forgot something. Take everyone back to the dorms and wait for me!”

 

“Mikki?” Tamaki questions, tilting his head.

 

“We can help you find it,” Iori says with confidence. 

 

“It’ll take too much time, so don’t worry about it! I have my phone with me, and I’m not some cute girl walking alone in the middle of the night, geez.” Before Tamaki unwisely interjects with something like “but you look like one,” Mitsuki is gone.

 

Iori steps forward, his heel grinding into the dusty pavement. Tamaki notices. “Mikki looked like he had something important to do, so leave him be. I don’t want him to get mad at us, so just trust him.”

 

Iori halts. “You might be right,” Iori says, but gulps. “I’m still worried, though. Year after year he always comes here alone… he doesn’t tell me what he’s doing, either.”

 

“Then,” Tamaki says, taking a paper slip from right next to him and tying a ribbon around the hole, “…we’ll just have to pray for Mikki to come back safe this time too, right?”

 

Iori reaches for another paper slip and a pen. “I really hope you’re right,” he says as he scribbles down his wish.  If the gods of the land are real, he pleads silently, then keep my nii-san safe.

 

★

 

“There you are,” Mitsuki releases a breath he didn’t realize he was holding. Or several, if the way he was panting is any indication. “Where were you last year? Were you sick?”

 

Yamato doesn’t turn around, and Mitsuki sighs, tugging at his sleeve. “Hey, listen to me. Are you still mad that I kissed you?”

 

“…no.”

 

Mitsuki decides to walk in front of him instead. He places his hands on his hips and stares forward into that despondent face. “Then what’s the matter? Why are you acting like this? Normally you come out to tease me and swindle me out of my alcohol.”

 

Yamato breaks into a run. Mitsuki curses, scrambling to catch up.

 

He doesn’t know how long his feet beat against the wet earth, with its stones and grass and twisted branches. If there’s an advantage to his height, Mitsuki decides, it’s this, but how can it matter when he can’t see Yamato at all? It feels almost like he’s…vanished.

 

Panic seizes his throat. He speeds up, kicking mud behind him. Suddenly, he’s nearly flying.

 

A cliff appears in front of him. He grabs its side by pure instinct, and begins to climb. The cliffside is too wet and slippery, though. At this rate, he’ll—!

 

Arms wind around him and tug him up in one sharp motion. Mitsuki doesn’t need to look up to know that they’re Yamato’s bringing him to safety, nor smell his earthen scent.

 

As Mitsuki is held tight, gently edged off the cliff, he feels a sharp pang of emotion. “...No fair.”

 

Yamato makes a confused noise, and Mitsuki feels it from the other man’s chest, which he’s pressed against so firmly. He tries to speak again. “I see you once a year, and you already mean so much to me. And then you run away!” He feels like a child, but that doesn’t stop the pout dragging the corners of his lips down. “Take some responsibility, already…”

 

For once, wry joviality returns to Yamato’s face. “You’re certainly acting maidenly tonight.”

 

Vexation at his behavior being far too much like Nagi’s battles with the elation that he was at least acting a little more normal. The latter wins. “Oh, shut up,” he says fondly. And then, “You owe me an explanation for this,” more seriously.

 

Yamato knows when he can’t get out of a situation, so he chooses to grasp Mitsuki’s fingers. As they head in the direction of the shrine, he gently holds the weeping branches out of their faces. “I suppose I do.”

 

★

 

“I’m the personification of Japan,” Yamato begins.

 

Mitsuki blinks. “What the fuck?”

 

Yamato amends his words. “Well, rather, the main island, at least. The one you call Honshuu. So when you said before that my parents were patriots, you were almost scarily correct. They were the ones who created the land you live on.”

 

If this weren’t Yamato, Mitsuki would probably be dragging them to a hospital right about now. He shifts. “Okay… and where are they now?”

 

“How should I know?” Yamato says in bitter resignation. “Probably still in Takamagahara and Yomi. They weren’t exactly ideal parents, and I had a couple millenia to raise myself. This current form is only a little older than you, though.”

 

Mitsuki thinks this is how Tamaki must feel around Sougo half the time. “So what is the personification of Japan,” Mitsuki gestures towards Yamato, probably aware that he should instead be bowing so low that he’d wind up burying himself in the earth like an ostrich but choosing not to, “—doing fooling around on Tanabata every year?”

 

“Fooling around on Tanabata,” he fires back, and Mitsuki snorts. 

 

“You must have a lot of free time.”

 

“I work quite hard, thank you very much,” Yamato says in mock affrontation. “I have to look over everyone and give them blessings and take away curses. Prevent natural disasters, things like that. In fact, you have an omamori in your pocket right now, don’t you?”

 

Mitsuki startles. Was he…? “You creep! You really were watching me!”

 

“I wasn’t!” Yamato yells reflexively. “Look, you haven’t looked at your fortune yet, right? Take it out.”

 

Mitsuki eyes him warily, but pulls the envelope out of the pocket. Yamato smirks.

 

“It’s ‘great fortune,’” he says. “If you go home, your fellow idol group members will also have the same fortune, so you don’t have to tie dolls to trees or whatever.”

 

Mitsuki looks at him, and unrolls the paper.

 

Great fortune.

 

And just for good measure, he pulls out his phone.

  
  
  


**[Mitsuki]:**

hey, tamaki. what fortunes did the group members get

 

**[Tamaki]:**

‘s all great fortune

 

feels like someone’s looking over us

 

mayb i’ll try for that king pudding factory visit lottery. bring some pudding home too mikki for extra luck

 

**[Mitsuki]:**

you just want to eat them yourself

  
  


When Mitsuki looks up, Yamato sighs dramatically, lolling his head to the side so that it rests in his palm in mid-air. It makes for a strange image, one that Mitsuki wants to wipe off with a kiss. Or two.

 

“Do you know how much trouble you and your idol kids are? Especially the one with the white hair. It’s like he attracts misfortune gods or something,” he grouses. “For every misfortune you’ve suffered, I made sure to counteract it with even greater fortune. So in a sense, I suppose your hard work paid off in regards to your little luck fortune last year?” He leans in close, eyes shining. “Since you got me to notice you.”

 

Mitsuki curls his fingers and slams his fist on his palm in realization. “I knew it! You really were watching me! When the lights went out—”

 

“—and your center’s quick recovery,” Yamato adds.

 

“And when Nagi couldn’t find his favorite chapstick—”

 

“—and when you needed to pass that exam even though you were so nervous.”

 

Mitsuki smiles so wide it almost hurts. “I thought so. I’m glad. You really were always with me. I know you as well as I do myself, even though I only saw you once a year. I’m glad.” He starts choking on his words.“I’m glad it wasn’t just me who felt that way,” he manages to get out.

 

“Mitsu…”

 

Mitsuki wraps his arms around the Yamato’s neck and tugs him closer, meeting his lips as if he can transfer every ounce of joy, every bit of happiness, into the other man. And Yamato puts all his force into responding back.

 

“Thank you,” Mitsuki says in the nonexistent space between their mouths.  _ I don’t want you to leave,  _ he doesn’t say.

 

Yamato picks it up anyway. “Hm, if you want, though, I can… certainly be persuaded to slack off more. Especially if I have such a cute boyfriend…”

 

Mitsuki gapes. “You bastard. Is this how you ask me out?”

 

“...Maybe.” His face is reddening, and he does his best to not look away. 

 

“For someone who’s the literal country of Japan, this is a really direct confession.”

 

Yamato smirks. “Would you rather I asked you to wash my boxers everyday?” 

 

“No!”

 

He gives Mitsu a simpering pout with glassy eyes and says, “Mitsu… it would be such an honor if you were to grant me the permission to get to know you better enough to be able to wash my underwear—”

 

“That’s gross! Can’t you just kiss me instead?!”

 

Yamato obliges, stealing a quick peck before returning to his standing position, impervious to Mitsuki’s blush. 

 

“Why, I just did, didn’t I?”

 

★

 

Sougo gently slides the balcony door open. “Mitsuki-san, good job today. You’re still working on the trimming?”

 

Mitsuki turned to him. “Ah, Sougo! Yeah, it’s taking awhile… I want the plants to live in harmony, but they love trying to grow over each other. It’s almost as if they want to reach heaven or something.” He chuckles. “Well, I can understand that, though.”

 

Sougo beams. “IDOLiSH6 really has come so far, huh?”

 

“Hasn’t it?” Mitsuki laughs and reaches for the tea Sougo proffers him. “I almost don’t have time for anything else.”

 

“Not even Nikaidou-san?”

 

As if on cue, there’s a knock on the glass, and in comes a sheepish man in green carrying a box filled with mulch. “Careful, it’s heavy,” Yamato warns teasingly before passing it off to Mitsuki, who stores it in the corner. Sougo returns his cup and apologetically glances in Yamato’s direction. 

 

“I’m so sorry, Nikaidou-san. If I knew you were coming, I would have made an extra cup…”

 

“What, even though I come by every day with a new job?” Yamato chuckles. “Ichi didn’t even pester me for too long today. I’m practically a part of the family now, aren’t I?”

 

Sougo starts bowing repeatedly. “I’m so sorry! I’ll definitely remember for next time, please forgive me!” 

 

Mitsuki wraps a hand around Sougo’s stomach and nudges him into standing straight.  “Oi, oi, Sougo,” he says. “It’s fine, that old man’s just teasing you…”

 

“Guilty as charged,” Yamato admits.

 

Mitsuki glares at him. “That was horrible of you, so apologize already!”

 

Sometimes, Yamato wonders about the quivering in his heart. He brushes it off as the effect Mitsuki’s has on him. “Yeah, I’m sorry. I was just teasing you. There was no way you should have expected that, nor does anyone think you should’ve. So,” He continues, “What’s your favorite beer?”

 

“Eh?” Sougo startles briefly, before relaxing. “I guess it would be Asahi, particularly the dry variant…”

 

“Oooh, good taste. I like Kirin beer, myself.” 

 

Mitsuki kicks him. “Are you trying to cop out of an apology?”

 

“Ow, ow! Mitsu, you misunderstood! Beer is the apology.”

 

“Only  _ you  _ would think beer is a good apology!”

 

Sougo stepped in between them, hoping to avoid a quarrel. “No, no, it’s fine! Beer is good for us, since it’s been a while since we could relax. We’ve all been very busy. You too, Mitsuki-san. You’re the leader, and you’re always covering up for everyone’s mistakes…”

 

“See, Mitsu,” Yamato says, slinging an arm over him and drawing him close, “Alcohol really is the worldwide solution to everything.”

 

Mitsuki places his hands on his hips. “It’s only because Sougo accepted that I’m letting this go, you know. Don’t make a habit of bullying my kouhai!” 

 

“And it’s certainly not because I’m your cute and loving—mmpf!”

 

“Not here, you idiot!”

 

Sougo laughs, and they turn to see his sunny smile. “You really do get along, don’t you? I’m happy for you, Mitsuki-san.”

 

“Who gets along with this guy,” Mitsuki mutters, burying himself in Yamato’s chest. Yamato’s face softens, and he winds his arms around Mitsuki’s body.

 

Truly, isn’t he fortunate to have found him?

 

★

 

The next time he comes around, as promised, Yamato sets out a six pack of Asahi Dry on the table. He’s dressed more nicely than usual, in a button up and slacks and a nice tie, and Mitsuki’s first thought is an appreciative  _ damn _ .

 

But then it simmers into the slightly sour taste of jealousy, because Yamato has never looked that nice for him. Every year at Tanabata, he’s only come in the same old yukata, and only until they’ve been dating has he seen anything different from him.

 

“So,” Mitsuki says, leaning his elbow across the counter, “what are you looking so nice for today?”

 

Yamato swiftly presses a kiss to his forehead. “Ah, ah, Mitsu. It’s not what, it’s  _ who _ . And to answer that, who else would it be for but you?”

 

Mitsuki snorts. “Smooth, aren’t you.”

 

Yamato’s smile turns catlike. “As always, right? But what are you waiting for? I’m taking you out on a date!”

 

Mitsuki looks up and down at his bunny slippers, flour stained orange sweatshirt, peachy apron, and jeans with the cuffs rolled up. “In  _ this _ ?”

 

Yamato shrugs. “Well, I can just wait for you to get changed?”

 

“And if I had other plans for today?”

 

The other man has already made himself comfortable on their couch, with Riku moving to the other side. Yamato picks up a magazine on the coffee table with Nagi on the cover, leafing through it. “You don’t. I checked.”

 

It takes a while for Mitsuki to get it. “You sneaky son of a gun. I can’t believe you.”

 

Mitsuki can’t see his face, but he can hear Yamato’s chuckle. “I’m sure you can’t.”

 

“Well, regardless of whatever you think, you’re right,” Mitsuki says with a sigh. “So just wait for me, okay?”

 

“Will do.”

 

When Mitsuki returns in a silky floral button up and black skinny jeans, it’s Yamato’s turn to whistle. “You clean up so nicely.”

 

Mitsuki sputters and tugs him out the door. “We’re leaving!”

 

★

It’s when they’re nestled in a corner of their favorite cafe that Mitsuki notices Yamato’s growing discomfort yet again.

 

It’s not that Yamato is unhappy with him on the dates that they’ve gone to. In fact, he’s seen so much of that smile, from sleepy and shy to genuinely blossoming that swells Mitsuki’s heart with so much affection that he feels like he’s spilling it everywhere. He constantly hears things such as “you seem so much happier,” from Sougo or Riku, or things like “he’s head over heels for you,” from Tamaki and Nagi.

 

But somehow, it feels like something is holding the other man back, and Mitsuki is, admittedly, a little scared.

 

_ I wish you would share your burdens with me. _

 

_ I wish I could take those burdens away. _

 

_ I wish you would trust me enough to let me do that. _

 

None of these words escape his mouth, so all he can do is hold his hand and pray that somewhere, sometime, Yamato will trust him enough talk to him about it.

 

“Yamato looks up from his glasses, the warm coffee fogging them over. “Is something wrong?”

 

“No, nothing.”

 

★

 

“I can’t stay here, Mitsu.”

 

“Don’t patronize me by trying to let me down easy! If you just wanted to break up with me, just say that instead!”

 

“It’s not like I want to break up with you!”

 

“Then what is it?!”

 

“I’m not allowed to give too many favors to humans. It disrupts the balance… and my power of faith weans. Gods give out blessings, but if they don’t allow curses, they can’t rule. It’s the same here. Being here with you for so long isn’t allowed by the heavens, but…”

 

“But?”

“I’ve always wanted to stay with you. Back then, it might have been something like curiosity, but now… I can’t stay away. I’ve finally found a home in you, in the rest of the group… and I’m not so sure I can give it away. But it’ll come at the cost of myself.”

 

“So what does this mean, Yamato?”

 

“I want to stay with you, but our time is limited. Even so, will you stay with me? For the short time we can remain together, I’ll make you the happiest man.”

 

“Dumbass! Don’t say things like that! As if I’d let you give up so easily!”

 

“M-Mitsu? Why are you hugging me like that, onii-san can’t breathe…”

 

“Think about how I feel! I don’t want you to have to sacrifice yourself for me!”

 

“I-It can’t be helped! If we want to spend time together—”

 

“But I’m glad you finally told me. At least now, you won’t have to face this burden alone. You just need more faith, right? So… do what you have to do. I’ll be waiting for you.”

 

“Mitsu… you know this means I can’t see you for a while, right?”

 

“Of course I do! But you’re more important, so it’s okay!”

 

“...!”

 

“Yamato! I’ll definitely save you! We’re not Orihime and Hikoboshi! So just trust in me, already!”

 

“...thank you.”

 

“Hm, what was that?”

 

“Nothing. I’ll see you again someday, Mitsu.”

 

★

 

Mitsuki takes up the stage, tries not to sigh into the microphone which resounds over the cheering crowds of Zero Arena. The pressure is overwhelming, so every time IDOLiSH6 has to perform, they’ve formed a habit of stand shoulder to shoulder, and holding hands if needed.

 

This time, with Sougo holding his shoulder and Nagi grasping his free hand, he lifts his microphone and begins to speak. 

 

It’s okay, Mitsuki thinks, everyone is here with me. Even Yamato, in spirit.

 

“Everyone! Thank you for coming today!”

 

The crowd roars.

 

“As explained, we’re grateful that everyone’s come here on Tanabata! The reason IDOLiSH6 wanted to hold this concert for today is for charity! We idols are meant to be the hopes of the people, but we don’t exist if the people aren’t here! We want to convey our gratefulness to everyone, and convey our gratefulness to the land we live in, so the proceeds of your attendance will go to relief causes! And I have a little request, everyone.” Mitsuki says, hushing his voice towards the end. The crowd similarly falls into obedient silence.

 

In a secretive tone, he tells them, “I want you to write on a slip of paper something you’re grateful to Japan for, and hang it on a tree, okay? Riku!”

 

“Yes! Here’s IDOLiSH6 with RESTART POiNTER!”

 

★

 

In the light of dawn after everyone has left, Mitsuki reads the wish-covered dome and smiles.

 

“Is this fine, Yamato?” He asks gently. “Is this enough to let you know that you have the blessing of love?”

 

★

 

One March morning next year, flurries drift into Mitsuki’s hair and melt when he sneezes. 

 

A warm can playfully rests on his head with a light thunk, and before he even looks up at Yamato, he smiles.

 

Yamato returns the warmth in his eyes, even if the scarf covers half his face.

 

“I’m back, Mitsu.”

 

Mitsuki opens the door. 

 

“Welcome home, Yamato.”

**Author's Note:**

> footnotes just in case (thanks wikipedia):
> 
> tanabata is a festival that, according to legend, takes place on the seventh day of every seventh month. this is to commemorate orihime the weaving princess and hikoboshi the cowherd, the separated lovers that meet only once a year. it is said that their constellations touch the sky together, and if it rains, the doves cannot make a bridge for them, preventing them from meeting another year. nowadays it’s more of a festival, with food stands and such. an important tradition is tanzaku, which involves you writing your wishes on a piece of paper, tying it to a bamboo tree, and letting it float in a nearby body of water (depending on where you are, the tradition changes.)
> 
> ono no komachi was a famous poet who lived in the heian court in the 9th century. supposedly, she was a bit of a player. a play starring her, sekidera komachi, takes place on a tanabata when she is already old and has lost her physical beauty, but a group of traveling monks recognizes the beauty in her poems. a child among them is driven to dance at them, an action she soon mimics while lamenting the transience and beauty of short lives. to call someone "komachi" is comparing them to a symbol of feminine beauty.
> 
> the japanese creation myth details the mating of the primordial male and female gods, izanagi and izanami. they gave birth to the islands of japan. as explained, the one yamato represents is oho **yamato** toyoakitsu-shima, or modern day honshuu. ~~as you will see i will do anything for a bad pun~~
> 
> so i felt the inspiration and more or less combined and bended the myths together. this is probably not an accurate depiction of the culture at all and i ask you to keep that in mind!
> 
> as always kudos if you like, and my twitter is @astrogeny if you want to talk!


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